


Put It on Me

by plaisirparkway



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Competitive idiots in love, F/M, Face-Sitting, Oral Sex, Sparring, Strength Kink, being held down?, like the barest hint of something like, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:42:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27196660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaisirparkway/pseuds/plaisirparkway
Summary: Then she went for him, fast enough that he dodged purely on instinct, the wind behind her strike rustling just beyond his ear. She didn’t wait to mourn her missed hit and turned again, intending to catch him in the stomach with an elbow.Adrenaline was already beginning to thump inside of him. He easily caught that elbow, maneuvered her so he could pull it all the way behind her body, his other palm braced against her back.“Check,” he said.
Relationships: Detective/Adam du Mortain, Female Detective/Adam du Mortain
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48





	Put It on Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically for 31 Days of Wayhaven - Day 25, Filthy. You can find me talking Wayhaven over on tumblr at [adamsdimples](https://adamsdimples.tumblr.com/)!

Adam’s phone buzzed on his thigh. It took him long moments to tear his eyes away from the papers in front of him, but when he saw Serena’s name flash across the screen he clued in. 

_ What are you doing in an hour? _

He wrote back:  _ Paperwork. Unless you need something else.  _

_ Mat time _ . 

_ See you soon _ . 

* * *

When she arrived at the warehouse, he was surprised to find that she was dressed for training. She typically showed up, still clattering about in her heels, before scrounging up leftover training clothes from those he washed and folded for her, and left in the room she kept there. 

Mat time was how they’d come to refer to their shared time sparring in combat training. She’d come to the team, bereft of almost any combat skills. Now she was...adequate. But she trained steadily, and with dedication, which was how she did most things. 

She was dressed in tight black leggings, which, he could admit, made her look good, yes, but would be efficient for a workout. She strode into the training room, fury surrounding her like a fog. 

“What’s happened?” he asked. He started stretching, pulling and holding his arm to one side. 

Her lip curled so fiercely, she might as well have snarled. She mirrored his motion. “Serena versus the mayor.”

“And?” Adam said, careful not to prod. 

“Score one for Mr. Mayor.” Her voice dripped venom. 

Ah. That did explain her sudden, spontaneous desire for sparring. He could understand the impulse of wanting to hit something. 

“Should I ask?”

“No.” 

She did a few jumping jacks, then followed him onto the mat. He had that warm, prickling rush of preparing for physical battle, even if it was just sparring with his (-- _ girlfriend  _ seemed like such an impossibly small, juvenile word for the woman that was the entirety of his universe so--) his Serena. 

She was gently bobbing, shifting her weight from bare foot to to the other as they looked at one another. Good. Being small and nimble would help her, especially if her attackers were larger, like himself. 

Serena didn’t take instruction particularly well, but she’d seemed to trust him in this. 

“Don’t go easy,” she said.

“I never go easy on you.”

She shook her head and waved something in the air, a second before she popped it in her mouth. A mouth guard. They’d only ever trained hard enough to require one a couple of times before. He wanted to push her, but he didn’t want to  _ hurt  _ her. 

“Serena,” he said levelly, “don’t go throwing yourself around because you’re angry.” 

Her response was muffled by the mouth guard but he heard it clearly enough: “That’s exactly why I want to throw myself around.” 

Then she went for him, fast enough that he dodged purely on instinct, the wind behind her strike rustling just beyond his ear. She didn’t wait to mourn her missed hit and turned again, intending to catch him in the stomach with an elbow. 

Adrenaline was already beginning to thump inside of him. He easily caught that elbow, maneuvered her so he could pull it all the way behind her body, his other palm braced against her back. 

“Check,” he said, and released her to begin again. 

He had thought it was impossible, but her face was even angrier, more fierce when she turned around. She wanted to rain hell down on him. 

He...liked that. 

She came at him again in half a dozen more insipid strikes, and his own irritation grew as he pinned her, halted her, kept her easily at an arm's length. Check, check, check, check, check and check again. 

He huffed. “You’re letting the anger make you foolish.”

Serena made a noise he’d never heard, a kind of long throaty rumble that rattled through him, made him angrier because that sound didn’t just trip his annoyance. She was better than this. And if she was going to let anger completely decimate her ability to achieve, she  _ would  _ have to learn the hard way. 

He wouldn’t let the thing between her and safety be her own emotions. 

She yanked her t-shirt up over her head and spat the mouth guard out. It sailed to the side of the mat, landing with a wet smack. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, before she turned to look at him. Stripped down to her sports bra, he could see how strong she was becoming. 

He knew Serena didn’t train for the sake of weight loss or muscle gain or anything like that. But even so, it was evident that she’d been spending more time down here, making herself a more formidable physical opponent. 

He was proud of her work, of her ready fighter’s stance. 

He was annoyed that after all of that work she was letting her emotions mess with her skill. 

He was aroused by the new exposed skin, brown and sweating, cast in shine and shadow by the fluorescent lights above. 

They all twined together into one crush of an emotion with no name. 

He reached behind him, and pulled at his own t-shirt. He held her gaze as he tossed it aside, next to hers. The physiological reaction of her body told him she appreciated what she saw. He wasn’t inclined toward preening. His body was as it was when he was turned, that was out of his control. He trained to keep his reflexes sharp. 

But. 

There was a certain greed in her gaze that made him hot all over. And as they circled one another, he couldn’t be sure if he was predator or prey. They finally stopped on opposite sides from where they started. 

“Begin,” Adam said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

She came at him. A beautiful erinys with perfect form. Unfortunately, that form telegraphed every move she was going to make. He didn’t even let her get fancy. He simply body-checked her, hard, and she went down with a grunt, glaring up at him. 

“Again,” he said shortly. 

“Fuck you,” Serena said in kind, and rejected his offered hand. 

They went again, same scenario, his bulk against her pretty but increasingly desperate attacks. 

“You’re fighting dirty,” she said, as they circled each other again, faster. 

Adam couldn’t help the expression that crossed his face. “What, and you think that your opponents will want a good clean fight? Hit me, or quit.” 

Finally, something she could use. Serena was a lot of things, but not a quitter. When she came back, her hits were cleaner, more solid, more fluid. 

“Good, good,” he called as they met blows, advancing and retreating with some semblance of equality. 

“Shut up,” she said and in the second breath: “Thank you.” 

She struck out with a punch to the stomach that would have been real if she hadn’t held back. “Check,” she said with satisfaction. Just as she didn’t rest on her failures, she wouldn’t linger on her victories, and she turned again, quick enough to get in a second strike. That one landed, knocked the breath out of him, as much surprise as anything else. 

Adam laughed low, unsurprised to find the corner of her mouth lifted. 

“Check,” she said, in a voice that had a little too much sweetness. 

They went to separate corners once more. She was starting to flag, which was only fair. Fights were usually short, and she always pushed herself, with the idea that she wouldn’t be going up against humans. 

“Once more,” he said with narrowed eyes. She gave a short nod. 

A split second later and she was on him, flinging herself at him with all four limbs. They went down together in a tangle and then she was kissing him. 

The electric charge of fighting, of closeness, of tricking his body into believing it was in danger came alive in his mouth, as he tasted her. It flared from deep within him, turned into a bloom of desire. It had him surging to his feet, her body wrapped around his as though the worst fate would be letting go. 

She moaned his name, loud enough that he realized they were still in the training room. Apparently, that was going to have to change. 

* * *

They crashed into his bedroom, mouths knocking together in desperation. Whatever anger Serena felt had bled out on the mat, replaced with a furious, blessed  _ lust _ . 

Watching Adam move would have been enough. The sweat spreading over his skin, the flex of his muscles, the breadth of his shoulders. But she was also hopelessly aroused by his...ability. His competence. That he didn’t slow it down or make it less so just because she was human, or a woman or  _ his _ . 

He was good at what he did, and she had become good too. 

They clashed again, in an attempt to get each other’s clothes off, hands fumbling. She caught the waist of his sweatpants once, but he was faster, stronger, sticking his entire hands in her pants to peel her sweaty leggings off. She helped, wrangling them down and the rest of the way, and finally off. Her underwear followed shortly after and he busied himself with her sports bra after that. He made to kiss her again, but she intercepted, yanking at his sweatpants and his boxers in one go. 

He mumbled her name, bent to kiss her and she turned it into a moan when she licked a stripe up his neck. 

Serena could be honest with herself--she absolutely wanted this fast. She wanted him to fuck her and hard. She wanted to be obliterated by the feeling of him inside her. Adam had other plans--he seemed, always, to have other plans--and finally captured her. He pulled her naked body into his, grasped her head with one thumb in front of her ear and kissed her. 

It annoyed her that he could know her so well. That he could kiss her until she melted, that he kissed her and it was everything they both needed. 

They stumbled to the bed a tangled heap of limbs and lips and teeth. Serena got him flat on his back. Later, she could admire the fine, lean strength of his thighs, the muscles of his abdomen, the dark blonde happy trail. 

“I need your mouth,” she said, and her voice betrayed just how much. Normally, it took her a long time to come from oral, to get out of her own damn head long enough to enjoy herself. But Adam had said: “if anyone has time, it’s me,” in that way of his, that was half-serious, half-amused. 

He didn’t say anything, simply waited. He was always going to give her what she needed. Serena crawled up his body and rested a knee on either side of his face. Before she could even adjust, he grabbed her hips, his fingertips in the flesh of her ass and pulled her down to his mouth. 

She gasped. “Fuck-- _ fuck _ .” 

She couldn’t have stopped the roll of her hips if she wanted to. But his tongue was parting her, lapping up her wetness, all strong and slick and hot surrounding her clit. And she really, really didn’t want to. 

Serena swore again and canted her hips, leaning back so she could stare past her own body, find his eyes. They glinted at her, all that bright, icy green staring back. With half of his face covered in her, they seem even more expressive, they say even more than usual. 

It was almost enough, the way they clouded with lust as she throbbed again, the way she felt herself grow wetter--and how he somehow wrenched her closer so he could taste it.

“Adam, I--” 

With what she could only think of as cruelness, he released her and slid out from between her legs. She turned and scrambled to a sitting position, her back against the headboard. 

“What are you?--” 

He was coming back, making his way up the bed to her. “Let me,” he said, looking up at her, a question in those impossible eyes. 

She nodded. Adam paused for a moment, and closed his eyes. He leaned his head against one of her thighs, kissed it softly. 

He was going to kill her. 

He bent his arms around her thighs, spreading her open and keeping her there. She went to adjust and found that his arms may as well have been manacles. The moan that climbed out of her was as if it was stolen from her. 

She was a butterfly pinned down, quaking, fluttering in his grasp. When he licked her again, and there was nowhere to go, nowhere he would  _ let  _ her go, it was like stars lit behind her eyes, like sparks came to life in her belly. 

She swore again, put her hand on his head, let her fingers dig into his scalp until she heard him hiss, until he pressed his face deeper. He was murmuring against her, she could hear him, feel it, even through her own shaking and trembling. 

His pace changed, speeding up, and he added his thumb, constant pressure and she came with a bursting moan, high-pitched and embarrassing. 

Only when she came down did she realize what he’d been saying: “There you go,” he repeated, encouraging, mumbled into her thigh. “There you go.” 

She stared at him, panting. His face was still wet. After a moment, she crooked a finger and he got to his knees, kneeling between hers so she could kiss him again. Right, yes, he could _ kiss _ . She slid her hand between them and wrapped her fist around his dick. It was his turn to jerk, to tremble. The head was slick under her thumb and only getting slicker as she touched him. 

“You’re so hard, baby,” she whispered in between kisses. “You need me, don’t you?” He nodded against the crook of her neck. She was getting turned on all over again, feeling how hard and needy he was. “Yeah, you need my pussy?”

His dick twitched in her hand, and they both moaned. Yes, she definitely,  _ definitely _ needed to come again. He made another noise. Not a growl precisely, but something like it. He gathered her body in his hands, and planted one foot on the bed, leaving the other knee down. 

They were crowded against the headboard and he had all the strength and leverage he needed to lift her hips to his, and press into her. Slowly, but steadily, stretching her until her toes curled. 

_ Hard _ , she wanted to say, wanted to beg. But he began to move slow, slow,  _ holding _ her as much as he was fucking her, his face buried in her neck. It was good, it was always good. Even if Adam wasn’t going  _ hard _ this time, she could feel herself getting closer just from the thickness, the stretch. 

And because somewhere along the way, it had become more than bodies. 

She cradled the of his head in her hand, running her fingernails down his neck and back up again. He shuddered, and lifted his head, gazing at her. 

“I love you,” he said, quietly. Sometimes he said it still as though it surprised him, but she couldn’t fault him. It felt the same to her: a surprise every time he held her hand--and every time she wanted him to.

She could have teased him. She could have said  _ I know _ . But there was a moment always, where she could see what it cost him. That each time they were together this way, it split him open, made him vulnerable, showed his belly. That there was no hiding how he felt about her, that it humbled him, terrified him. 

“I love you too,” she said instead and he heaved a satisfied sigh. He thrusted deeper, pulled her closer and put his lips to her forehead. Serena was panting again, so close to coming. She started rubbing her clit in frenzied circles and he said  _ please _ , and she came. Longer and harder than the last time. 

Adam groaned again and gave her two powerful, headboard-rattling thrusts and he came noiselessly, one side of his face pressed to hers. 

It was a long moment before they came apart, before they slid together down the bed, until she was flat against the pillows and his head rested on her stomach. 

“I’m going to be bruised,” she said, stroking his hair. He was like a cat, he might purr if she petted him long enough. 

“Are you sure? I was trying not to hold you too hard.” 

She laughed. “No, from the training.” 

“Oh,” he said, and sounded surprised, as if he’d forgotten that all together. They fell into silence once more and she thought that perhaps he really might doze off to sleep, like a saited animal, until her stomach rumbled in his ear. 

They both laughed and he kissed the spot next to her navel, and suggested a shower and then dinner. They showered together, but in a perfunctory sort of way, cleanliness over play. 

He dressed again, in his usual clothing and she went to find some of her own, more leggings and loose tee. 

By the time they were clean again, and ready to go find her some food, the rest of the team was gathered in the kitchen. Nate had cooked, based on the spread, and was serving everyone. Though, if she had to guess it was only because he knew she was there, since it was optional for everyone else involved. She couldn’t fight the warmth spreading in her chest. 

Farah practically sprang up from her seat as they wandered into the room, and Morgan immediately broke out in a smirk that should have cracked her face in half. Even Nate was watching, chin propped in his hand, in an attempt to hide his mouth. 

Adam and Serena exchanged a glance. 

“This looks good,” Serena said glancing at the table as Farah streaked past her, not at top vampire speed, but faster than a human. 

“I am glad you’ll be joining us,” Nate said, voice curiously level. “You like pesto, right?” 

She was agreeing when Farah came in again, arms behind her back. “I got you guys presents!” 

She presented each of them with a little bundle. Her t-shirt was in a tight roll atop her sneakers. It looked as though it had even been  _ washed _ . Annoyingly, the whole package was tied off with a bit of ribbon. 

“At first,” Farah said slyly, “we were worried that there had been an emergency. Since your clothes were all over the room and you guys weren’t anywhere around.” 

“It did seem as though you’d left in a hurry,” Nate agreed. His fingers failed to hide the grin. 

“Sure sounded urgent,” Morgan said. 

Adam scowled so hard, Serena worried his face might get stuck that way. Even her face and ears were burning hot. Without anything else to do, Serena dropped her little bundle by the door and sat in a chair. She winced. Yes, her ass probably was going to bruise. 

“Are you hurt?” Nate asked with genuine concern. 

“Sometimes it  _ is _ more fun when it hurts,” Morgan quipped and though Farah laughed loudly, Adam’s growl was louder. 

Nate shook his head, as if they were all his misbehaving children. “Leave them alone now, Morgan. Come you two, come eat.” 

Adam settled into the seat next to hers. His expression was still twisted in angry embarrassment, but she stroked a hand down his thigh as he heaped salad onto her plate, and he began to loosen once more. 

“So how did it go?” Nate asked and Adam choked on his water. 

Serena caught on faster: “I got him, a couple of hits at the end. I’m getting faster.” 

Adam nodded, relaxing. “She is.” 

Morgan snorted. “Oh, Nate, I thought you were asking about the fuc--” 

Nate hissed her name, and Farah dissolved into giggles again, and despite herself, even Serena smiled. 


End file.
